Unaware
by Tori Stone
Summary: "The best way to judge a creature's character is to observe it in it's natural habitat while it's unaware of being observed!" Danny tests this hypothosis with a little help from his oblivious best friends. Rated for minor language.


**I got a new job today so I wrote a one-shot to celebrate!**

**A nauseatingly fluffy one-shot.**

**But still, YEY!**

**Anyways, I had insomnia last night and while I was laying in bed I thought of this and then I found out about my NEW JOB THIS MORning so I decided to write it out. Weee!**

**Okay. Yes.**

**Two oneshots in two days. Whoa.**

**But yes, here is this. This for you to reads and things.**

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**Enjoy! (:**

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**Unaware**

**September 17, 2013**

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"The best way to judge a creature's character is to observe it in it's natural habitat while it's unaware of being observed!"

Danny Fenton firmly believed that truer words had never been spoken.

Nevermind the fact that it was his father, of all people, who said them. Nevermind that it was just a half-assed argument in the midst of a heated ghost-themed debate with the mayor. And nevermind that his parents lost said debate. Danny turned the statement over in his mind in the RV on the way home from City Hall, ignoring his father's irritated muttering and his mother's steely silence. It was one of those simple things that Danny knew, but wasn't aware that he knew it until someone else said it out loud.

_Take the Box Ghost, for example,_ he thought to himself. _Clearly, he's not evil. He's just a blundering idiot who happens to get in trouble a lot because of his love for boxes_. He smirked to the window as the memory of happening upon the chubby ghost's home not too long ago crept up in his thoughts. He was not all together shocked to find the Box Ghost lovingly rearranging his rather impressive collection of cardboard boxes, happily oblivious to the fact that Tucker accidentally crashed the Spector Speeder straight through the door to his dimension. It was borderline creepy, especially when they overheard the Box Ghost call one of his boxes "Doreen," but not evil. Much like the ghost himself.

_And then there's Skulker_, he thought with a pained grimace. Even his home was shaped like death; a large, shadowy skull-shaped cliff on the center of a densely forested island, complete with two caves serving as sunken eye sockets. Confusing memories with Valerie aside, the island itself made his skin crawl. Perhaps because it's lone inhabitant swore on an almost daily basis to have said skin pinned to the wall. He was given the rare opportunity to watch the hunter a week earlier, crouching in the bushes while Sam struggled to get the Fenton Thermos untangled from her backpack. Skulker moved with a sense of urgency even when he thought he was alone, his entire body tensed and alert at all times, ready for any type of prey to come flying out at any time. Danny cocked his head to one side, an unconscious half-smile quirking his lips as the memory of Sam's soft cursing came to him.

"I'm going for a walk," He said absently when his father pulled the RV to the curb before FentonWorks. Neither adult acknowledged him aside from a grunt and a nod of the head, and within moments Danny was standing on the sidewalk outside of his home, bathed in the soft light pouring out from the interior of the old building. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking.

Before he was even aware of making the decision, he was standing outside of Tucker's house. He guessed it was getting fairly late, for most of the lights were off in the Foley household. Of course he was not entirely surprised to see enough light to rival that of the sun pouring from the window of what he knew was Tucker's bedroom up on the second floor. He smirked, picturing his best friend sprawled out on his stomach on the floor beside his bed, idly chewing on the end of his pen while he attempted to study.

A sudden thought occurred to him and after a quick glance to both sides he flashed to Phantom. Recently the trio discovered that because Danny was half-human, he could exercise some level of control over his frigid external body heat while in ghost mode, making it all the more difficult to be detected when invisible. It took a ridiculous amount of concentration, but he was slowly getting better at it. He had successfully snuck up on Tucker three times that week while invisible in his ghost form because of the new trick. Sam, of course, was a different story. He had yet to catch her off-guard. A moment of hesitation stopped him from immediately phasing through Tucker's window, wondering if it was an invasion of privacy to practice this unannounced. But he was never one to pass up an opportunity to practice his ghost powers, especially since Tucker and Sam nagged him almost constantly to practice whenever he could.

He glided up to Tucker's window and passed through it soundlessly, sucking in a deep breath and concentrating on raising his body temperature. He spotted Tucker sitting at his computer desk, back to the window, completely engrossed in a computer game. However, the instant Danny was fully in Tucker's room, hovering over his bed, Tucker whipped around and stared hard at his window. Danny remained motionless, holding his breath, as Tucker's eyes probed the air around the window. He could see his friend's fingers tightening around his game controller; perhaps he sensed a false threat? Danny was just about to make his presence known when a loud sound of a computer-simulated car crashing into a computer-simulated lake exploded from the speakers on either side of Tucker's monitor.

"Damn it!" The techno-geek roared, his full attention back to his game. Danny tuned his face into his shoulder, desperately trying to muffle the snort of laughter involuntarily drawn from his chest. "Damn it, damn it, _damn it_! I was about to break my record! Come _on_!"

"Tucker Vincent Foley!" A female voice shrieked from the hallway. Tucker immediately ducked his head down and dropped his controller to the floor just as his bedroom door banged open, revealing Mrs. Foley, who looked supremely pissed off. "What was that language I just heard you using?"

"What are you talking about?" Tucker asked, his voice an octave higher than usual. "There was no language! Oh, _oh_, you must've heard my _game_. Yeah, sorry about that, I'll turn the volume down next time..."

Danny had to clamp his hand down over his mouth to keep from guffawing. Of the three friends, Tucker had the worst language by a long shot. The fact that his parents were the most strict about bad language made the situation all the more ironic. With one last sweeping glance at the scene - Tucker blushing furiously while his mother set into a stern lecture about the importance of proper grammar - Danny pushed himself backwards and phased through the wall, allowing himself to float on his back in open air just outside Tucker's house. Now free of the danger of being heard, he allowed himself to laugh, to really laugh, both in amusement with Tucker's situation and in exhilaration that he really was getting better and controlling his external body temperature.

_In fact_, he thought, _maybe it's time to really put myself to the test_...

With a grin that could only be described as mischievous, he took off toward Sam's house, hoping she was still awake enough to truly test his newfound ability. She always did have a knack for knowing when he was in the room, even when she was asleep, but the only way he could truly know if his control was getting any better would be if she was fully awake.

A sense of relief much stronger than he had been expecting washed through him upon spotting the amount of light leaking through the small space of curtains drawn closed around before her window. His grin grew more playful as he paused outside her window, slid into intangibility, and took a deep breath.

He phased his head through cautiously, peering around through his lashes to see if she was in a compromising position. He spotted her near her bed, bent at the waist over something he could not see from his current position. He held his breath and slid completely into the room, pausing just beside her window, cross-legged in the air and completely out of sight.

It took her a moment to react. She was absorbed in whatever she was doing, so he guessed she probably wasn't as tuned in with her surroundings as she usually was. However, after about three seconds, her head whipped up and around, a glare twisting her pale features, eyes roving over the air around her window in a similar fashion as Tucker's. He wondered how many times a less-than-friendly ghost had visited his friends without his knowledge, not that he was particularly worried about it; after three years of ghost hunting, they were just as physically capable as his parents. _In fact_, he mused as Sam stormed over to her window, _she's probably even_ more _capable than my parents at this point_.

He floated up closer to her ceiling so that she passed harmlessly beneath him, biting back a laugh when she ripped her window open. Bracing herself on the windowsill, she stuck her head out and looked both ways, her annoyance obvious. However, after a moment of this, she must have thought that whoever caused the disturbance was gone, for she closed the window and shook her head.

"Stupid ghosts," She muttered to herself, stomping back toward her bedside. Danny had to fight hard against the urge to shout in triumph. _She has no idea I'm still here!_ He thought gleefully.

A quiet sound drew his attention back to Sam. Part of him wondered if he should make his presence known, but the sudden dream-like quality of Sam's face when she turned back toward him stopped him from making a sound. She sighed and spun slowly, and he realized with a jolt she was dancing. The thing she was bent over was an old turntable.

A very confusing explosion of emotions burst through his mind, almost making him lose his tight control over his frigidness. _She's dancing. Sam's dancing. Sam's dancing to an old record on an old turntable. Sam's dancing in her pajamas. Sam's dancing barefoot. Sam's dancing in her bedroom._ He backed himself all the way up so that his back was pressed against the wall, his eyes wide as she spun in a lazy arc around her carpeted bedroom. The floor creaked a little beneath the balls of her feet, but she did not seem to notice; he wondered if this was the first time she had done something like this.

For all of the emotions that welled up inside him when he first realized what she was doing - confusion and amusement to name two - Danny found himself in nothing but wonder as he watched her move. She was graceful, but he knew that already. How could a person not be graceful after dodging three heat-seeking missiles? But this was different than those twisting flips he witnessed her do a few weeks earlier. That had been graceful in a ninja sense of the word. This?

This was something different entirely. Her steps were precise and practiced, and yet there was nothing forced about the way she moved. Never in a million years would he guess that someone with a heart as lion-like as Sam's could move with enough beauty to make even the most hardened warrior want to weep.

He was still struggling to inhale when the song ended and Sam paused, arms outstretched around an invisible partner, eyelids fluttering open to glance back at the record still spinning on the turntable. The next song started at a completely different pace than the first and she sighed, arms dropping to her sides. The magic was over.

And yet, Danny still could not make his presence known. Not now that he was seeing a side of Sam that no one, aside from her reflection, he guessed, had ever seen before. A nugget of guilt lodged itself in the back of his mind, warning him that he was intruding on something incredibly personal and if Sam wanted him to know that she danced with more grace than most professionals she would have actively shown him, but he pushed it aside. Sam was dancing again.

Not so gracefully as she had before. Now she was just bobbing her head and kicking her feet a little to the beat of the song as she walked, a peaceful little smile on her face. She stopped in front of her bookshelf, still tossing her head from side to side and swinging her hips as she ran her hand along the spines of her books. As silently as he could, Danny moved from his place against the wall to hover over her bed, drinking in her figure hungrily. He rarely ever stood behind Sam; he was almost always at her side, or else facing her. He never stood behind her, because that would mean that she was in front and she was serving as a shield to any potential attacks. But now that they were safe, with very little chance of attack, he stared at her hard, memorizing every curve her close-fitting pajamas revealed.

She sighed and began pulling books off the shelf, carrying as many as she could to the foot of her bed and dropping them, careful to not crease any pages. _First dancing, then rearranging her bookshelf?_ Danny certainly was in for a treat tonight, he decided.

It took her five songs to completely rearrange her books from alphabetical by author to alphabetical by title. When she was done she perched on the edge of her bed, tapping her chin thoughtfully, as if trying to decide whether or not she liked the new order. Danny scooted forward to hover behind her, staring hard at the back of her head, wondering if she could feel it. They sat in silence for a moment, before Sam spoke.

"Stupid." She muttered. With a familiar frustrated growl, she stood from her bed and moved to stand in the middle of her room. She arched her back and lifted her arms up over her head, stretching slowly, looking more like a cat than Danny had ever seen before. He chewed the inside of his cheek in anticipation as she began glancing around her room, wondering just what it was she was going to do next.

With a grin not unlike the Cheshire Cat's, Sam bent at her waist and planted her hands firmly into the floor. With a little grunt she lifted her feet and within seconds she was in a full hand-stand, laughing breathlessly as her shirt succumbed to gravity and revealed the smooth, flat plane of her stomach. Danny memorized this expanse of pale skin hungrily, knowing he would probably never have the chance to see it again.

She fell forward with a yelp, her body hitting the ground with a thud and she groaned. It was this pained little sound that made him lose his control, all of his pent-up frigidness exploding out of him with violent force.

"_Danny!_" She yelped, scrambling to her feet. Confusion made her violet eyes sparkle as she glanced between her window and her bed, where he allowed himself to sink into visibility, head hanging in defeat. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

He glanced up at her to find her eyes shining with a familiar frantic concern. It took him a moment to realize that she honestly had no idea he had been watching her all this time; she must think I'm hurt or something, he thought. He rarely knocked on her window when he was hurt, usually only having just enough energy to peek in to make sure she wasn't naked or something before phasing in and flopping down on her bed to be patched up.

"It's fine, everything's fine," He assured her, his guilt increasing tenfold at the look of immense relief on Sam's face. "I was just...practicing."

"Practicing what?" She asked curiously, perching on the edge of her bed.

"Body heat control..." He muttered, dropping his gaze to his lap. From his peripheral vision he could see Sam stiffen. "Turns out I'm pretty good at it."

"How long have you been in here?" She asked, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Um...honest answer or little white lie that won't hurt either of us?"

She did not answer right away, as if she was taking time to actually consider his question. "Both." She said finally.

"Only, like, two minutes." Danny said. Sam swallowed and nodded. "Or maybe an hour." He added under his breath.

For how pale her skin was, she seemed to lose quite a bit of color at an alarming rate upon hearing his last statement. "An _hour_?" She shrieked, recoiling from the bed as he recoiled from her. "You've been in my room, watching me, for _an hour_?"

"Okay, yes, but isn't this a good thing? It means I have major control over my ghost powers now, I'm getting even stronger!"

"I danced," She said faintly, no longer looking at Danny. "I was dancing and...and...oh my God you saw me _dancing_..." Danny fell silent, forcing the little whine of panic bubbling in his chest to stay down at the look on Sam's face. "I swore I would never, _ever_ let you two figure it out..."

"You're really good," He said weakly. Sam glanced at him, a snarl sketched across her features. "I mean it!" He said defensively. "That was some of the best dancing I've ever seen!"

"Well I should hope so since I've been taking dance lessons since I was _five_!" She screeched. Instantly she looked as though she regretted sharing this bit of information. "Oh, forget it. Just...don't tell anyone about this. Do you understand?"

"Sam -"

"Swear you won't tell anyone! Not even Jazz!"

"But -"

"_Swear it!_"

"_Fine!_ I won't tell anyone!" Danny threw his hands up in defeat. This seemed to calm her, though only slightly. She began pacing on the far side of her room, looking like a lioness preparing to pounce on her meal. "But only under one condition," He added, praying he wasn't begging for death.

Her glare was murderous. He was certain that if looks could kill, he would have died at least eight times by now. "If you even think about using this to blackmail me, Fenton, I swear to _God_, I'll -"

"Teach me." He interrupted.

Sam deflated immediately. "What?"

"Teach me how to dance."

She blinked rapidly, not quite believing what she was hearing. "What?" She repeated dumbly.

He stood from the bed and closed the distance between them, forcing himself to keep eye contact with her even though the closeness made him want to stare at his feet. "Teach me how to dance." He said slowly, pronouncing each syllable carefully.

"Seriously?" She whispered, staring up at him in disbelief. _When did Sam shrink three inches?_ He wondered internally.

"Seriously. I want to learn." He choked down the embarrassment he felt, a little easier at the look of amusement in her eyes. "Will you teach me?"

"Um..." She glanced at the turntable, where the record was still spinning, having reached the end of that side. "I..."

"You don't have to, if you don't want to," He said suddenly, recognizing that she might feel forced and that was the last thing he wanted her to feel. Dancing was clearly something she enjoyed, even if she didn't share it with him or Tucker. "I won't tell anyone about this. I just...I thought you looked really...it kind of looked fun," He finished lamely, well aware of the fact that his face was probably the precise shade of maroon as the Texas A&M flag hanging on the wall above Tucker's bed.

Sam studied him for a moment, her violet eyes lit with curiosity and amusement alike. "Okay." She said a moment later. "C'mere."

He did as he was told, stepping toward her so that there was very little space between them. "Change back." She instructed. He phased to Fenton immediately, grinning lopsidedly down at her when she snorted. "Okay, so since you're the guy you have to lead."

"What does that mean? I have no idea what I'm doing, I -"

"It's okay, I'm going to teach you. But it doesn't change the fact that _traditionally_ the male leads." Sam explained patiently. "This hand goes here," She took his right hand and guided it up her waist, stopping his hand from wandering up her back right at her ribcage. "The other holds my hand," she said, lifting his left hand up to slightly above her shoulder and gripping it tightly in her own. "This is the position we maintain with our upper bodies. Only..." She frowned, glancing down at his right hand. "You're not holding on tight enough."

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling a faint blush go creeping across his face.

"Um...remember when Johnny's shadow knocked me off the roof of that building and you caught me last month?" She asked. He nodded, tightening his grip around her waist and bringing her body closer to his subconsciously as the memory flashed through his mind. "Perfect. Your grip should stay just like this. Just as firm."

"I'm not hurting you?" He asked quietly.

She lifted her head slightly, meeting his gaze. "No," She said softly, and he realized she had not shrunk. He had grown. In fact, he could tell his muscles were slightly bigger, for Sam's hand felt much smaller than it usually did as she lightly trailed it down to his elbow, hitching his right hand up a bit higher on her waist. "No. Dancing is just like flying. It's all about trust. You have to keep your grip firm or else I could go flying off on a spin."

He nodded slowly, enjoying the tingles of electricity jolting through his body. He was used to them by now, having felt them almost constantly whenever Sam was around. Or mentioned in conversation. Or when he just thought about her. But they were particularly strong whenever she touched him, and now was no exception.

"Okay, the dance you saw me doing earlier was the waltz. I think. What exactly did you see me do?" She quipped, leaning back to gauge his expression.

"When I came in you were messing with the record player."

Her face reddened, but she nodded. "The waltz." She confirmed.

"Were you dancing before I came in, too?" Danny asked, unable to keep his amused grin off his face.

"Shut up before I kill you. Again." She hissed. "I'll teach you how to do the waltz. But only if you shut your fat spying _face_." He snorted, but did not speak another word. "Good. Okay. Like I said, you lead. So the first step is with your left foot forward, my right foot back. On three. One...two..."

He liked to believe that he was so caught up in watching her, her face lit with obvious satisfaction at being able to teach something she clearly loved, and that was why he missed the first step. In his haste to catch up, he overcompensated and managed to stomp down on her bare foot. She, in turn, jerked forward just as he did the same, his apology already tumbling from his lips. And their faces came crashing together.

He guessed he probably should have pulled away upon realizing the soft, warm pressure on his lips was caused by the corner of Sam's mouth, but the shock of tasting her - of actually having his mouth in contact with a small portion of her skin - wiped all rational thought from his mind. Without much thought at all, in fact, he cupped her face in his hands and turned her head toward his, smashing his lips down on hers, swallowing her surprised gasp. In his head it would only be this one time, he would never be able to do this again without the threat of discovery crashing down on him, so he would take advantage of it. What he expected was her to stiffen, to freeze completely, while he silently wished she would respond. He expected her to shove him off and stagger away upon feeling his tongue begging for entrance.

What he did not expect was for her to groan in complete and utter unmistakable satisfaction, or for her arms to lock tightly around his neck. He did not expect her to comply and part her lips almost immediately when he trailed the tip of his tongue against her lower lip. And he certainly did not expect for her to allow him to lift her off the floor, arms strong and tight around her, supporting her as her fingers sifted through his hair.

They broke apart abruptly, both gasping with lack of oxygen. Sam's face was flushed, her cheeks the lightest, most lovely shade of pink. He chuckled breathlessly at it, because he had never seen such a wonderful shade of pink on her before. Though, he realized, he'd seen a lot of things about her tonight that he'd never seen before.

"In her natural habitat, while she's unaware of being observed..." He murmured under his breath, his voice suddenly taking a strange, musical quality.

"What?" She whispered. He shook his head dismissively.

There was something in her eyes, though, that made his heart lurch nervously. It was something like apprehension, like maybe she didn't understand that he kissed her because he had feelings for her. Maybe she thought he just did it for the hell of it, not because he...loved her? Not love, no; that was something his poor seventeen-year-old male brain could not comprehend just yet. That would come later for them, though at that moment he did not know it. The feelings he felt for her at that moment were something close to love, though. And she deserved to know that.

"Remind me to practice more often," He said softly, smiling calmly when the apprehension immediately vanished in her eyes, replaced by a look so smoldering it made his heart skip a beat.

"Only if you remind me to dance more often," She murmured back, bringing her forehead flush against his.

_Oh_, he thought as he spun her around, drawing an exhilarated laugh from the girl in his arms, _I can_ definitely _do that_.

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**Like I said. Nauseatingly fluffy.**

**Wooo!**

**(:**

**- Tori**


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